To Live Outside the Law

304 Pages·2012·1.02 MB·English

by  Leaf Fielding

To Live Outside
the Law

A memoir
Leaf Fielding
“October Song” by Robin Williamson
© 1967 Warner-Tamerlane Publishing Corp. (BMI)
All rights administered by Warner/Chappell North America Ltd
All rights reserved
A complete catalogue record for this book can be obtained
from the British Library on request
The right of Leaf Fielding to be identifed as the author of this work has been
asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988
Copyright © 2011 Leaf Fielding
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval
system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical,
photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the
publisher.
First published in 2011 by Serpent’s Tail,
an imprint of Profle Books Ltd
3A Exmouth House
Pine Street
London EC1R 0JH
website: www.serpentstail.com
ISBN 978 1 84668 796 9
Designed and typeset by
I dedicate this book to Sue,
my fercest critic
and principal supporter
Anybody who sets out to turn the world upside down has
no right to complain if he gets caught in its gears.
Frederik Pohl and C. M. Kornbluth, The Space Merchants
Contents
1 Operation Julie · 1
2 The Abbey · 18
3 Built on sand · 25
4 Summer in the sixties · 39
5 The Julie mob · 53
6 A leaf in God’s forest · 70
7 Bail · 82
8 Electric Eel to Florence · 93
9 On a dirt road in Turkey · 119
10 Trial · 136
11 Prison blues · 143
12 Freaks · 154
13 Indochina · 171
14 Bird · 197
15 Tabbing · 211
16 Mary and cream · 228
17 High inside · 242
18 Distributor head · 254
19 The Timex men · 274
Epilogue · 287
Whatever happened to…? · 289
Glossary of prison slang · 292
Acknowledgements · 294
1 Operation Julie
26 March 1977
I woke wIth a start. The light of a torch
lanced the darkness and settled on my face. I raised my
hand to shield my eyes and was pinned to the bed by an
octopus, hands everywhere.
‘Got him!’ a voice yelled triumphantly.
‘Give us some fucking light! Let’s have a look at what
we’ve caught.’
The light came on. Through the spread fngers over my
face, I could see I was being held down by several men.
‘What are you doing?’ This was my worst nightmare come
true. I tried to turn my head to see what was happening to
Mary, but my hair was gripped tightly and I couldn’t move
an inch. ‘Let go!’ I yelled.
‘Shut up, cunt,’ someone hissed in my ear. ‘Right then,
lads. Let’s be having him.’
They hauled me from the bed and stood me on my feet.
Only two were holding me now. The other three stood in
front of me, bristling. One of them had drawn a gun. Mary
was hiding below the duvet. A grim-looking woman stood
2 Leaf Fielding
at her side of the bed. The stink of sweat and adrenalin
hung heavy in the air. The guy on the left, a big unshaven
bruiser in a red sweater and jeans, stared hard at me.
Triumph and loathing struggled for the upper hand in his
expression. Van Gogh’s Sunfowers peeked incongruously
over his shoulder. Without taking his eyes from mine, red
sweater barked, ‘Get him his fucking pants and take him
below!’
My arms were released so I could take the Y-fronts that
were thrust at me. When I’d put them on, I was grabbed and
frogmarched out of the room and down the stairs.

We were in Mid-Wales, spending the weekend with our
friends, Russ and Jan. A dozen men in sweaters and jeans
were engaged in ransacking their house. Several uniformed
police stood around watching. A scruffy longhair with a
gun guarded the door. I was pushed in front of an older
man in a sheepskin coat who stood apart. He cautioned me
and asked if I had anything to say.
I stood, fur-tongued and thick-headed. It was dark
outside. I looked at the clock on the mantelpiece. Just after
fve. We’d gone to bed three hours before, full of curry and
wine. My head was pounding. I felt as though I might throw
up at any moment. Suddenly I desperately needed a shit.
‘I’ve got to go to the toilet.’
‘All right.’ The boss turned to my escort. ‘Watch him!
Don’t let him close the door. Don’t take your eyes off him
for one moment.’
I lingered on the pan, trying to get my broken brain
to work. Three days ago I’d laid a hundred and twelve
thousand hits of LSD on Russ. He was supposed to be